Ubi est timor meus Angelum
by Volitional
Summary: [Translates to: Where is My angel] Only a few years have passed since the war, and some scars still remain. Integra visits Walter's grave on her own for the first time and loses herself in a terrible but wonderful sense of nostalgia. This was written as a drabble/headcanon for my Intera - but also a general fic.


There are times when memories we think we had forgotten will rise again. They will flood every fiber of a person's being, starting with the five senses until it expands beyond comprehension. Sometimes they are brought on by something, and at other times they are spontaneous. We tend to cherish the memories that keep us happy, that make us stronger and bring light to the dark. But what of the demons that lurk within, beneath the fragile glass windows that separate the good and bad? Every memory is a lasting one, and those we love never truly leave us.

A sudden gust of wind rustled the trees, making them bend and sway. Long platinum strands rushed past the woman's face and a bare hand made to push them behind her ear. A solemn expression had donned her features as she gazed almost fondly at a custom headstone. Memories cluttered in her mind and behind her eye as it closed, each and every one battling for her attention. _Walter C. Dornez. _That was the name etched beautifully into alabaster marble. Today, Integra brought and laid a bouquet of fresh, white lilies with clusters of lavender. The smaller flowers held a softer fragrance that leveled out the strong aroma the lilies gave off. She positioned them against the grave and sighed. Integra closed her eyes and willed a smile to catch the corners of her mouth. The knight had sworn she wouldn't cry; but of course, her mantra was futile. One tear after the other fell, staining her cheeks before dropping to the flowers for the deceased. Both hands fled to the soil beneath her, curling and digging into the earth and grass.

The air was warm and the sun kind. It thawed whatever ice had lingered in the heir's heart and mind, causing her to choke on a sob as it was relinquished. _Why? _That had always been the question; but no matter what answer greeted her, it wasn't enough. No explanation would ever be enough to satisfy or fill the gaping hole that was now present. She felt empty; hollow even. Even after the few years that had passed, it was only now that Integra was capable of venturing to the place of recognition and honor she and Seras had chosen for Hellsing's butler. But even now she could see how nothing had changed. His absence and her final memory of his working for Millennium haunted her. It was a poison that effectively rendered the director helpless. Her body would become immobilized, her heart would beat frantically in her chest, and everything would feel distant. How many times had she fallen to kiss the earth on his behalf? How long would it take for her to forget him? When would she solidify her resolve and put up her walls once again?

_Never_. That one word was dark and honest. It mocked her, laughing and prodding at delicate cracks in her icy composure. No, such strength had long left her. It was all a front now; or had it always been one? Perhaps and perhaps not. Never was the most accurate reply she could come up with. There was no wondering why, there was no trying. She _wanted_ to remember every little detail – to keep him in her heart where he belonged, as Hellsing's butler and friend ought to be.

Vivid images of the man found her then, from the past up to the future. They were strong snippets that she had held onto. The days and nights he had raised, nursed, and protected her. The many times she had served as a pupil in her youth as he tutored and mentored her, aiding with the progress of her studies. She could almost taste and smell the delicate and perfect teas he provided both morning and night, the calls and reports he took or gave, suggestions and advice in various fields, and the dedication he had put into every moment of his work and her life. It hurt. It hurt, but it was a pleasant pain. She welcomed it, needed it, wanted it. But then, then came the image of a most youthful and handsome man that donned similar apparel to the aged one she knew. He bore the same name, and used the same strings he did. Everything down to the male's monocle was Walter. _He,_ was Walter. It was not Hellsing's side he had served on then, it was Millennium's. How could such a thing have happened? Only moments, maybe hours before she had been told by the same man only void of such youth to leave and not turn back.

This is where she lost it. Both hands fled to her face, her sobs becoming verbal as her shoulders shook with the effort of holding them down. Her breathing became irregular and the order she gave resurfaced full force; like a slap across her face.

_"This is my order…Come back alive at any cost."_

Integra placed a hand over her mouth, choking as the words stumbled from her lips. No matter what, they always slipped free with every visit she paid. Eventually the heir wound up screaming, hoping, and praying that he could hear her. This time however, she could not raise her voice above a whisper. She sat back on her knees, hands curling into fists on her lap, head bowed. Blonde tresses fell like a curtain around her, save for the few strands that stuck to her cheek.

"How could you? How could you leave me? How could you toss everything away; and for what? Attention? Youth? Second chances? Walter, why….I gave you an order!" Though the words had been said under her breath between clenched teeth, her volume had risen at the end. "You only had to follow it. Why couldn't you just listen to me?" Silence fell like velvet, heavy but comforting nonetheless.

"I gave you an order," she breathed again, wiping furiously at the cheek wet with tears.

When she was smaller, Integra could recall sleeping in his lap. The girl would curl up in his arms, head pressed against Walter's chest to listen to his heart. When it stormed, or whenever she was scared, he would prepare a small cup of tea with more milk in it than usual, and he would talk softly to her. After some time, she would wind up once again pressed against him. He would hold a pocket-watch to her ear while murmuring stories in her other. Very little time would pass and once again the heiress would slip into a peaceful slumber. With spare time, he would either help hone her fencing skills, or let her help in the garden. They would laugh, smile, and enjoy one another's company.

Integra could even recall the way the sunlight would light up his face. He was her angel; her guardian angel. It wasn't a doctor who had tended to Integra's wounded shoulder the night Arthur died and her uncle had tried to kill her. No, it had been Walter. It was always he who taught and nurtured the young knight. It was he who had helped build her to the respectable woman she was now. Was that what she was? This crying, heap of a body that had lost almost everything to a war she hadn't been prepared for or predicted – was it the noble and strong knight he would have wanted to see?

It was then that Integra broke from her hysterics and rose to her feet. Yes, she missed her butler, her friend; but what had happened was done. They were worlds apart now, and though she had found it in her heart to forgive him, there would always be a sliver of the Englishwoman that would resent him.

Dwelling on the past would do no good. It was time to move on. Integra turned on heel to leave and paused. "I miss you." Three simple words that meant more than they could ever possible convey. With that, Hellsing's director made to return to her manor – a home filled with too many memories, but a history she could not bear to leave. She had no doubt that Seras would wonder where she is – as occasionally the Draculina would wake to check upon her. There would be no reason to give her worry, and Integra had finished paying her respects.

Tilting her head skyward she let the sun's radiant light cleans and dry her features. She closed her eye against its harsh light and smiled, taking a deep breath. Because in truth, no matter the span of time, the ones she loved would never truly leave her.


End file.
